Lonestar Outback
by nooneokay
Summary: Sniper was lonely so he invited Spy who was also lonely. Also plot.
1. Chapter 1

Sniper and Spy had finally arrived in Australia. Spy had nowhere to go for the holidays. Never mind the fact that a grown man such as him would likely find comfort with a nice mix of vermouth and gin (get what I am hinting at? Stirred, not shaken. Aren't I so funny?)

"My sister is a little different," said Sniper. "Please be nice to her."

"Me accosting any other person even though it's part of my job to do such a thing? I would never," said Spy, glaring at Sniper. "What is her name, anyway?"

"Lizzie."

"Is that short for Elizabeth?"

"Nope, it's short for Eliza. She's a cute little ginger girl with many freckles. And she has a secret."

"Do I want to know what that secret is?"

"You'll see soon enough."

The dry Australian heat hit the two men's faces as they walked out of the airport. I'm just gonna assume all of Australia is a desert, even though I have google at my disposal.

"Larry, I brought along your camper, somehow," said Lizzie.

"Lizzie, are you preggers?" said Sniper.

"Yep, and Darwin is happy that he's going to be the god father of the child."

"Darwin?" asked Spy, confused.

"Oh, you must be that Spy that my brother has the hots for," said Lizzie. Sniper made expelled an awkward laugh. "Darwin is my chimpanzee friend. I can talk to animals. Isn't that wonderful?"

"Yeah, that sounds great," said Spy.

"I got the special power from our old aborigine friend. I forgot his name. What was it again, Larry?"

"Muslim."

"Ah, Muslim. I miss him," said Lizzie.

"What exactly are we waiting for?" said Sniper.

"Oh, my chauvinistic misogynistic dimwitted alpha male husband is out searching for snakes. He's most likely going to make me cry or say something offensive because that's all my mind can associate masculinity with."

Speak of the devil, or rather my indolence for writing details. Her husband finally returned.

"Crikey, look what I got," said Steve Irwin, holding a boa constrictor. "She's a bloody beaut, she is."

Then they all had a pissing contest. Lizzie's baby got eaten by a dingo.

There was some factory . . . I mean power plant in the back that I put there to try to hide that I am shipping the two characters. Just read some wiki article about Montgomery Burns and you're all set.

Spy and Sniper rode a magic carpet and sang A Whole New World.


	2. Chapter 2

Um, obnoxious totally irrelevant author's notes, lol

Do you like shameless servile flattery? Me too. Give me some and I might help your crappy story become popular by posting it on this _one obscure website _where ideas and any smidgen of creativity whatsoever go to die.

...just kidding. My ego is bigger than goatse.

(On a _slightly serious_ note, suggestions are welcome.)

* * *

Everyone was having dinner. Oh right, Sniper's parents. Let's see: Crocodile Dundee and Nicole Kidman. Perfect. So they were having dinner with Sniper, Spy, Lizzie, and Steve Irwin. Aren't my original characters so original? And they're _so_ Australian too!

Nicole Kidman had baked a scrumptious-looking carrot cake, which really is more suitable as a dessert. She wanted the men to start eating healthily even though they've told her that meat was all they had wanted. There were at least ten kilograms of game that Crocodile Dundee had hunted in a freezer. Spy, however, wouldn't eat unrefined game those burly Australian men are so predisposed to eat. He's French, and we all know French people only eat foie gras, frog legs and escargot.

"Woman, you know better than to cook this," said that good-for-nothing sexist pig Steve Irwin. "How many times must I remind you that men prefer meat? Only two people here have vaginas."

"Three, actually," corrected Lizzie. She surprisingly hadn't been the biggest loser of the pissing contest; it was actually Spy that had earned the title. Lizzie was able to take a quick glance at Spy's crotch during the game, and she saw that he had a vagina. It was quite odd, considering Spy had the raspy voice of a male. Perhaps his face was very feminine. Maybe that's why he wore that mask. Ooo, possible subplot that I'll only mention once to keep you intrigued.

Sniper stomped on Lizzie's foot. "Heh, good one, Lizzie." He glared at his poor defenseless carefree innocent some-other-extreme-word-insinuating-righteousness sister.

"I am disinclined to acquiesce to your request," said Lizzie in a faux Victorian or whatever era accent.

"I hadn't even told you to do anything," said Sniper.

"I just felt like saying that for some reason," said Lizzie, giving her brother a shit-eating grin.

So the others started eating and stuff. Spy kept pestering Nicole Kidman about the food she made, asking if all the specific ingredients were kosher.

"Yeah, it's all kosher," she said. _God, this is more boring than having a discussion about psychology with a Scientologist_, she thought.

Spy's kunai dropped out of his out coat pocket as he reached for a piece of the carrot cake.

"You're not a Jew; you're a ninja," said Crocodile Dundee. "And that's not a knife. This is a knife," he pointed to Sniper to get his kukri from the den. Sniper pouted but eventually conceded to the command.

"Impressive," said Spy. The kukri was almost identical to Sniper's.

"Must make a ninja jealous; a man having such a long sword," said Crocodile Dundee homosexually.

"Daddy, Spy is a Jew," said Sniper. "Just watch." Sniper threw something out of his pocket out of a window.

"Penny!" exclaimed Spy. In an ecstatic whim, he jumped out of the window, not caring what injuries he would soon receive: a mere broken wrist, which fortunately could be mended by the Sniper's aborigine witch doctor friend. Very fortunate indeed for Spy, as socialized medicine hadn't existed in Australia at the time. His medical bill would have been, inflation taken into consideration, a few hundred dollars. Such a severe marginal cost would not bother a Jew; they can never be parted from coins, at least according to South Park, which is a program my peers like to compare their edginess to.

"Yep, such parsimony only exists in the soul of a Jew," said that anti-Semitic Steve Irwin. God, he's such a terrible person. What other bad things could I possibly apply to this caricature of everything I loathe yet surreptitiously quite like?

"Johnny Depp, oops sorry, I meant Steve," said Lizzie, trying to conceal her blushing with her hands. She liked to daydream about Johnny and Steve . . . Burton. "That sounded far too grandiloquent for the antithetical embodiment of my beliefs."

"Bitch, that Spy's a cheap Jew."

"Perfect," said Lizzie.

"Now woman, since we've lost our little tyke to the dingos once again, we must have intercourse in the missionary position with the sole intention of procreation."

"I implicitly desire complete domination."

So they left the dinner table.

"Larry, don't you think you should go check if your friend is okay?" asked Nicole Kidman.

"No worries, he's all right," said Sniper.

"Probably because he's a ninja, right?" said Crocodile Dundee.

"For the last time, he ain't a ninja," said Sniper. "You saw him jump out a window for a mere penny. Is that not proof enough of his religious beliefs?"

"I suppose it is, for now," said Crocodile Dundee, rubbing his chin in slight frustration. "What exactly is your occupation, son?"

"Oh, I'm a fashion designer. I just came here from Milan. Spy's from Nice, which is quite nearby."

"My son? A fashion designer?" Crocodile Dundee's eyes widened in shock. All those years of teaching his son to be a proper man had gone to waste. "Well, congratulations." He proceeded to hug his son.

"You aren't mad about it?"

"No, Steve Irwin is the villain, remember?"

"Oh, right."

"Just remember that soon I'll get mad at you for some stupid reason just to progress the plot, if you can even call it that."

The two shared a hearty laugh.

"I love you, Dad."

"I love you, son."

* * *

Sniper and Spy were in Sniper's room. All of a sudden. Minimalism is such an art. Very difficult to master. Yes.

Anyway, they were fighting over who would get to sleep on the Barbie bed . . . and I mean Barbie as in doll, not the Australian slang of grill. It goes to show that I appreciate the culture of Australians enough to learn such a trivial fact from a Google search.

"Ha, I get it," said Sniper.

Spy was staring at a doll on the floor. "What the hell is this?" He said, picking the doll up. It was that blond chick Chloe; it was a Bratz doll.

"It's nothing, really."

"I suppose you wouldn't mind me turning her giant head into a tobacco pipe."

"Spy, I know you only smoke cigarettes, but feel free to do that." Spy tried to break her head, but then the doll was grabbed from his hands. "You monster! Stay away from Chloe!" And then Sniper brought Chloe to his heart, caressing her smooth made-in-China hair, and went back to lying on his bed. He started crying. Wuss.

Spy's menstruating started giving him painful stomach cramps. He ran to the bathroom and stayed there for quite sometime, fascinated that the whirlpool of the sink's drain traveled in the opposite direction than he was used to seeing. Knowledge of the Coriolis Effect renders this story erudite when it's poop.

* * *

Up Next: Did I mention the power plant in the back yet? Well, something filler-esque will be written about it. Again, please read about Montgomery Burns so I don't actually have to write the boring _plot_ myself. Seriously, I didn't really have one thought out initially.

You can expect more angst, angst, angst. It's so wonderful.

And I'll be introducing token black person soon in a few chapters, though I'll be ignoring Demoman. You better expect me to keep mentioning token black person's ethnicity. Inclusive social justice warrior, that's me.

Also, copious flagrant references to animated films, most of them Disney.


End file.
